


Iron & Gold

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: As his cousin ascends as the Third, Rasa makes an interesting observation...
Relationships: Rasa & Sandaime Kazekage | Third Kazekage, Rasa/Sandaime Kazekage | Third Kazekage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Iron & Gold

**Author's Note:**

> It's RasaThird Day! I am so excited to share this! I ended up sprinkling in a LOT of my Suna hcs etc. I know timelines don't necessarily match up etc, things like jutsus and techniques aren't 100% accurate, but to be completely honest, even in canon things don't always make sense.  
> So i've taken what i like and made it work as best as I can. :)
> 
> I went for quite a blunt tone with my style of writing, which I think suits Rasa. What do you think?
> 
> I hope you like my OCs, Third's mama, Rasa's parents, and others!
> 
> Can you also spot Karura?

Rasa had to pay the sculptor. He counted out the coins in his new office, tucking them into a pouch, before tying it with a double knot. He picked up the pouch, and tucked it beneath the folds of his robes.

He locked the door behind him as he went, and made his way down the corridors. New rugs were being laid out by craftsmen, to suit the taste of the new kazekage. The Second’s colourful intricate patterned rugs were being wheeled away, to be donated... _ sold _ , Rasa had overruled, to cover the expenses of the more muted navy tones that were being laid down.

They were still fancier than Rasa would have liked. Rasa would have left the corridors bare.

He made his way into the council room. It wasn’t his first time in the council room. But it was his first time in the council room as the treasurer in his own right. A treasurer, with his own team of accountants. He was still a jonin, and still expected to be on the battlefield, but there were new opportunities that would take priority now.

The new statue sat next to Shamon, the Second, who sat next to Reto, the First. Rasa folded his arms and gazed up at it. His cousin’s features were chiselled finely into the stone. Rasa let his eyes scrutinise it down to the finest details, calculating the very price. The spikes of his cousin’s topknot, down to his thin brows, the proud arch of his nose and chin, all had been crafted with great care.

Rasa’s eyes flickered to the other two statues. Shamon’s head was perfectly round, and Rasa wondered if the stone would be smooth if he rubbed his palm over it. He decided not to clamour on the table to test the theory. But the statue brought the old kazekage to his mind, as if he had been sitting before Rasa.

And not long ago, he had been.

Rasa’s eyes flickered away from Shamon, to Reto. A sculpted mask lifted up and tucked over the man’s chin, but still displayed his defined jawline. This statue had begun to age, the stone not quite so smooth.

Rasa had never met Reto. He had died before his birth. All that Rasa had ever known was Shamon.

And now his own cousin.

Rasa’s eyes flicked back to his cousin’s figure, at the defined jawline, and then back to Reto.

And then he frowned.

An arm flung around his shoulders, the long white robe of the kazekage draping across his back. Shamon’s robes were too short on his cousin, falling inches above his ankles and wrists, too wide in the body for the younger, muscled man. “Do you like it?”

“It is well done,” said Rasa curtly. “I see a likeness.”

His cousin released Rasa, and stood at the foot, hands on his hips. “Who’s better looking?”

“The statue,” replied Rasa drily.

“Excellent,” his cousin clapped his hands together. “Now that’s attended to, pay the sculptor, my new treasurer. There’s a council meeting this afternoon.”

Rasa let his cousin leave, while his eyes dragged back to the statue of Reto, and then the statue of his cousin. The likeness was uncanny. Rasa’s immediate suspicion was that the sculptor they had hired was unskilled, and merely copied Reto’s appearance in his creation of the Third. They were of the same clan, however distantly related. Rasa was almost surprised at how his cousin had managed to secure his ascension to the Third, given his more...humbler origins.

Rasa handed over the pouch to the sculptor, one eye sliding back towards the statues.

If Rasa were the kazekage, he would have knocked off fifty percent for the plagiarism, or demanded that the statue be remade, at no extra cost.

But his cousin liked it, and Rasa was no art critic.

The coins exchanged; Rasa turned away. Something was troubling him, yet he did not know what yet. The state of Suna’s funds was shocking, to be frank, and yet they had an ascension ceremony to get through, a new council to create, the tower to remodel, and on top of it all, new kazekage robes to be made and fitted. There were to be new guards, outside the tower, night and day, to prevent anymore assassinations.

That was one expense that Rasa did not wish to scrimp on.

Rasa wanted to feel hopeful and optimistic about the future, that there would be change. That the newer people in council would make a difference, and that he could too.

If that was what he wished, then he had work to do.

Rasa turned on his heels, and made his way back to his office.

* * *

A heavy velvet curtain snapped open. “What do you think?”

“Very handsome, dear,” his cousin’s mother, Emrah, nodded approvingly.

Rasa turned around from where he scrutinised one of the expensive wall hangings, and did a double take. “No!” he cried.

His cousin glanced up, from where his mother patted the robes into place, adjusting his hair to lie smoothly over the collar. “What is it?”

Rasa gaped. “You...you changed the kazekage colour scheme?”

“Yes,” his cousin held out the robes. “Green isn’t really my colour.”

“But...you’re the kazekage! It doesn’t matter what colour suits you best! You have to wear the kazekage robes!” insisted Rasa.

“These are the kazekage robes now,” his cousin said firmly. “I don’t like green. Blue suits me better. Don’t you agree, mama?”

“Neither of us look good in green,” admitted Emrah, lightly fanning herself. Her face turned to address the others watching, shy eyes staring at the floor. “When I was younger, my...husband told me I wore blues best.”

His cousin took after his mother, sharing the same dark glossy navy locks of hair, slanted yellow eyes, and olive complexion. But his mother’s hair was smooth, falling down to her chin, while his cousin’s hair was spiky and voluminous, tied back in a topknot. She was not quite so tanned as her son, being a civilian rather than a shinobi who was out regularly training.

Rasa stared at Emrah, the way her navy dress fell across her petite body, her golden sandals that still shone with newness. A scarf draped over her shoulders, pinned in place with a brooch, and several bangles jangled up and down her arm. It was clear that his cousin had spared no expense with his robes, or his mother’s dresses either.

Navy flattered them both, complimenting their complexions and awakening the colouring in their faces.

“What’s the mizukage going to say when they realise you’ve stolen their colour?” scorned Rasa.

“The mizukage is going to think I wear it better and pick another colour,” replied his cousin calmly. He walked around the room in a circle, glancing down. “Do you think it needs taking up another half an inch? I told them to let them down as low as they could go, but I don’t want it in the way of my feet. The last thing I need is to fall flat on my face in front of the whole of Suna.”

“That sounds like something Rasa would do,” announced Sasori, to the whole room.

The room turned and laughed at Rasa.

“I doubt that, Sasori, considering that I am above average height,” Rasa retorted.

The whole room turned and laughed at Sasori instead.

“I’m going to ask for them to be shortened by half an inch,” announced his cousin. “Then that way, if I have nice sandals on, I can show them off.”

Emrah picked up the hat, and laid it atop his voluminous hair.

“Maybe we should take this out a bit, too. It just sits on top of your lovely hair. But you look so grand…” Her eyes shone. His cousin bent down, and gave her an awkward, stiff hug, trying not to stab his mother with the pins still in place. “My handsome boy.”

“It’s about time we had new fresh talent,” agreed Rasa’s mother, Inas. “A lovely young handsome kazekage, you’ll have no trouble with having grandchildren, Emrah!”

Rasa’s face soured. He could not fault his mother’s obsession with grandchildren, given that she hadn’t been able to conceive until late in her life. But it was so disconcerting, especially as he was regularly asked if he had a girlfriend, why not, when was he going to get one, all so he could get married and have children.

“Do you think that the tailor had to shorten the original robes and take them out for Shamon?” asked Sasori loudly.

Rasa gave a strange look at Sasori, wondering why he was bringing the conversation back to this.

“Oh, Reto was tall like our new Lord Third, they probably did,” agreed Inas. “I wonder, Emrah, how you managed to produce-”

“Ouch!” yelped Emrah.

“Mama!” his cousin sprang away from her. “Did I stab you?”

“Nothing to worry about,” said Emrah, holding her hand. “Just a pin.”

* * *

The morning of his cousin’s blessing ceremony had Rasa wrapping himself in formal robes and pulling on gold sandals. He pushed away some of the ridiculous trinkets for luck that Inas had brought him, and began to try and comb his hair. The spikes stubbornly sat where they wanted to be. Rasa wondered how his cousin and Reto had managed to make their hair look stylish.

A topknot like his cousin’s would look ridiculous on Rasa.

He joined his cousin’s procession towards the temple, with Sunans peering out their windows for a glimpse of their young, handsome kazekage.

“This is a waste of time and money,” Rasa muttered to his cousin. “You don’t even like the temple. You don’t need a blessing! Or a ridiculous ceremony! They could have come to the kazekage tower and thrown holy water at you for free!”

“I have business to attend to at the temple,” his cousin retorted. “And I might not like the temple, but Sunans do. And they deserve to meet their kazekage.”

“We could have spent this money on fortifying the defences.”

“We will fortify the defences afterwards.”

“They need to be done now.”

“If it is that urgent, do it yourself!” ordered his cousin.

“As you wish,” said Rasa, immediately thinking of one of his favourite hobbies and how he could scale it up to raise funds.

At the entrance, they washed their hands and feet, replacing sandals with slippers. They padded inside the cool temple, and Rasa almost forgot his dislike of the place, thankful for the respite from the sun.

There was singing. Incense and candles were lit. Rasa watched a blonde priestess lay her hands on his cousin’s shoulders and chant a few words. Another threw holy water at him, before they led him around an altar.

They could have done this at the kazekage tower for free.

Afterwards, they retired to a chamber for a meal, where his cousin bent over an old, weary priest. Unlike the others who kept their distance, his cousin embraced the man, served him wine from his old flask, and spent a great deal of time talking with him.

Rasa’s eyes remained on the blonde priestess.

He ate sullenly and silently, before spotting an underage pair of chunin helping themselves to wine.

“Put that down!” ordered Rasa, snatching the bottle. “I’ll have you both scrubbing the kazekage tower with your toothbrushes if I see you drinking one more drop!”

“Piss off, you’re not my dad!” shouted the chunin.

“Report to my office tomorrow, 8am sharp, toothbrushes in hand!” barked Rasa.

His cousin glanced up, amused. But as far as Rasa was concerned, they didn’t need to hire cleaners for a while.

* * *

At the council meeting, Rasa sat in his seat near the head of the table, and rose when his cousin entered. His cousin sat before the three statues, beneath Reto.

“I’ll begin by running a debrief on the past activities of the month, shall I?” announced his cousin. “The tower is now fully refurbished. I had the old furnishings donated-”

“Sold,” Sasori piped up.

“What?” asked his cousin.

Sasori’s eyebrows raised. “Oh. Didn’t he tell you? Rasa sold it.”

“It covered the expenditures,” said Rasa quickly.

“Rasa, I gave orders for it to be donated,” said his cousin.

“I thought you wanted it removed and weren’t concerned how,” lied Rasa.

His cousin gave him a stern stare. Rasa startled, realising that Reto’s statue was giving him the exact same stare.

“We’ll discuss this later,” said his cousin. He sat up straight. “My robes are complete, as I am modelling them for you now, and my blessing ceremony went off without a hitch! Which leads me to the point of this meeting.”

The room fell silent.

“While at the temple, I spoke with Bunpuku, the jinchuriki,” announced his cousin. “He is growing old, and doesn’t have very long left. He will likely die come winter. Which leads us to the question, what do we do with Shukaku?”

The room stayed silent.

“It is customary for the jinchuriki to be a member of the kazekage’s family, to prevent their betrayal. Bunpuku was a first degree relative of Reto,” explained his cousin. “As for myself...I have no family but mama.”

Rasa thought of Emrah. Soft-spoken, petite Emrah.

She was  _ definitely  _ not an appropriate jinchuriki.

“My mother is not suitable. She is a civilian, and doesn’t know one side of a kunai to the other,” said his cousin firmly, before any of the elder council members opened their mouths. “We need to decide an appropriate place to seal Shukaku before the time comes.”

“How about a puppet?” suggested Sasori brightly. “And then I could use it for battle.”

“No, Sasori,” scolded Chiyo.

“There have never been jinchuriki puppets, that’s way too risky,” scolded Baki.

Immediately, Rasa decided that he liked Baki.

“It should match up with someone’s abilities,” suggested Rasa’s father, Anwai, which Rasa thought was much more sensible. “Someone who’ll know how to use its powers and put them to great use, not some doddery old priest.”

“They’ll be ostracised!” complained Yashamaru. “The...ah, less educated among the Sunan people make up all kinds of ridiculous stories about Shukaku. My sister says they hear them all the time in the temple. Ghosts, ghouls, you name it, they’ll believe it!”

“What about straws? People from Reto and Shamon’s lineage could draw straws,” suggested another voice. “Whoever gets the shortest gets to be the jinchuriki.”

“Straws? Are we children at the Academy? And if their abilities don’t match?” asked Anwai.

“Silence, if you’ll please,” his cousin held up a hand. “I like Sasori’s idea.”

Sasori looked so pleased, he turned pink, almost as if he were about to fall off his chair.

“It’s less risky sealing tailed beasts into objects,” admitted his cousin. “In the absence of a suitable jinchuriki, I think that is wise. I will hear no more.”

The room fell silent.

“On that matter,” Chiyo heaved herself up. “It’s time I announced my retirement.”

* * *

Several hours later, and Rasa dutifully dragged himself to his cousin’s office. The new colour scheme was a simple collection of cool, dark colours, and his eyes relaxed. His cousin sat behind his desk, writing with a fountain pen on a heavily written form.

“I’m sorry about the furnishings,” said Rasa. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t undermine my orders,” said his cousin quietly. Somehow his silence was more threatening than the angry shouting rage that Rasa had expected.

“I didn’t mean to,” said Rasa. “I was concerned about the expenses. You’ve put me in charge of the budgets, and I want-”

“Go home, Rasa,” instructed his cousin. “It is very late. And I have noticed that you stay later than anyone. This is unhealthy. Go home. Or go out with your friends. It would be good for you to spend more time with people your own age.”

Rasa made his way out, head hanging.

The truth was, he didn’t actually have many friends his own age. People his age were silly. Silly and arrogant in battle. Rasa was happiest on his own. Instead, he made his way to one of the rare rivers that ran along the outskirts of Suna. He perched down on the nearest rock, above the water, and concentrated.

Dark rings formed around the corners of his eyes.

* * *

The following morning, Rasa arrived at the kazekage tower. He reached his cousin’s office, only to find Yashamaru and at least three other ANBU members stationed outside.

“I need to speak to my cousin,” he explained patiently.

Gold weighed down heavily in his pockets. Rasa had dried it all and weighed it himself the previous night, and today, he wanted to reveal his findings to his cousin. This amount of gold could pay for the new fortifications to the outskirts of the village.

His cousin had told him to sort out the new fortifications himself, and so Rasa had.

“Lord Third said he is not to be disturbed under any circumstance,” replied Yashamaru.

Rasa pursed his lips. “I am his treasurer.”

“He said he is not to be disturbed. Sorry,” shrugged Yashamaru.

In his office, Rasa paced. He laid the gold out on his desk, his findings a small treasure to himself. He wanted to show his cousin, but if he were not to be disturbed...Rasa hoped he had not offended him.

Yashamaru remained stationed outside of his cousin’s door into the afternoon, and the evening. Come the following morning, when Rasa arrived, his pockets full of more gold, Yashamaru remained stationed there.

“Hasn’t he let you have a break?” demanded Rasa.

“No.”

“And now I have to pay you all overtime,” grumbled Rasa, heading into his office. He supposed he could use the time he could not spend with his cousin to begin arranging for the fortifications. Once his cousin emerged from whatever snit he was in, Rasa could show him as a surprise.

He set one of his accountants to find an architecture to examine the safety and condition of the existing fortifications, and another to find builders. He would ask them both for a quote, and then show his cousin the covered costs.

The next morning, Yashamaru remained in place.

“Have you had no break yet?” asked Rasa.

“I am not to leave under any circumstance, and Lord Third is not to be disturbed,” replied the younger man. There were rings under his eyes. How old was this boy? Rasa wondered. He had to be younger than Sasori.

“What is he doing?” demanded Rasa.

“He said he is not to be disturbed,” repeated Yashamaru.

Rasa snapped his fingers. “Well, since he is clearly indisposed, then I’ll give you new orders. You are relieved of your duties. Off you go. Go home. Go to bed.”

“I can’t leave,” said Yashamaru. “I’m not to leave until he comes out.”

Rasa turned on his heel, storming down the hallway to his office, before thinking of a better idea. A reckless idea, but a better idea.

He threw open the door to the balcony of his office, and clamoured out. There were a series of balconies leading to the balcony of the kazekage. All Rasa had to do was step across them, and not look down.

Rasa clamoured over the ledge, and reached over to the next one. This was not quite so becoming for a shinobi, much less one on the council.

“Ah, what are you doing?” demanded a shrill voice.

Rasa nearly toppled off, but steadied himself. “I am going to see my cousin,” he replied firmly.

Chiyo stood in the middle of her old office, packing away her things into scrolls. She sucked her teeth when she heard him. “He is not to be disturbed.”

“I know,” said Rasa.

“I’m not sure you’ll want to see him.”

“I want to see my cousin,” said Rasa firmly.

“Well, I won’t prevent you,” shrugged Chiyo. “But be prepared to face the consequences.”

“I am prepared,” said Rasa, darkly. He glanced over her emptying office. “I am...sorry that we could not throw you a retirement party. But funds are short.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chiyo shrugged. “I don’t want one, anyway. All of my friends are dead.”

“I’m...sorry,” said Rasa.

“Ah, it’s to be expected!” Chiyo threw her hands up. “Look after your cousin, Rasa. I delivered him, did you know that? I would volunteer my medical skills in the smaller hospitals. His mother was all on her own, poor thing. Barely more than a teenager. And she was tiny, and then when he arrived? He was the largest term baby I had ever pulled out. First thing he wanted to do was feed. Absolute opposite to my grandson...now he was the smallest term baby I’d ever delivered. And he had no appetite. Watch out for my grandson, Rasa. I do worry about him, you know…”

Chiyo stopped rambling, and then threw a picture frame in her box.

“Not anymore! No more delivering babies, no more making poisons, no more sealing, no more fighting. It’s down to you young people. And I can’t wait to go...fishing!”

Her words almost left a lump in Rasa’s throat, but he had set his mind to it. He clamoured from her balcony, to the next, halfway there.

On the kazekage’s balcony, the doors were closed. Rasa did not let it deter him, and instead peered through the glass panes. There were curtains drawn over, heavy and dark. He could not see a single inch through.

Rasa concentrated, summoning his Gold Dust. It crept into the lock, and pushed against the latch inside. Rasa opened the door, stumbling through the dark heavy curtains.

His cousin sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed with concentration, hands clasped together. A teapot sat before him, and to Rasa’s horror, the body of the priest that his cousin had conversed with at the blessing ceremony.

“C-cousin,” he gulped.

“Hello Rasa,” his cousin said softly, never moving a muscle.

“What are you doing?” asked Rasa, staring at the teapot and the body.

“Sealing,” his cousin’s lashes flickered, as he almost opened his eyes to look at Rasa, but did not. His brow was smooth, yet his expression calm and intent.

“Have you been here all this time?” asked Rasa.

“Yes,” his cousin responded. “Hush. Be quiet now. I’m almost done. Bunpuku’s soul is leaving us. He was a good man.”

Rasa sat cross-legged beside his cousin, and leant forwards, clasping his hands together, almost as if he were in prayer. It was not his thing, and never had been. His father always dismissed his mother as ridiculous whenever she hurried off to the temple; Rasa privately agreeing. But there was still respect to be shown here, for the man who had given his life and happiness to host the demon in his body.

There was a great sigh in the room, and then a ripple. The teapot shook, and his cousin sagged.

“There now,” said Rasa, catching him before he collapsed against the heavy wooden desk. “You are tired. You’ve spent three days performing a demanding jutsu. You should have asked for help.”

“It is better that it were me, than risk other’s lives,” mumbled his cousin, his face pressed to Rasa’s chest.

Rasa felt his heart lurch and he swallowed, realising that he was catching a glimpse of the man beneath the kazekage.

The teapot rattled.

“Be quiet,” ordered his cousin, lifting himself out of Rasa’s arms. He picked up the teapot, and placed it on his shelf, where it stilled. He strode over, and knelt over the body of Bunpuku, placing two fingers to his neck. “Yashamaru!”

The door opened, and Yashamaru wandered through. The circles around his eyes looked darker in the dim room. He startled when he saw Rasa, but said not a word.

His cousin sat back on his haunches. “Please, confirm the death for us.”

“How old was he?” asked Rasa, as Yashamaru knelt down.

“Old,” said his cousin. “Even older than Suna itself. To think this man roamed the sands, before this was built. That he knew the First...the Second...and lived to see a Third.”

“The First lived to his late fifties, I believe,” frowned Yashamaru, laying his fingers where Rasa’s cousin had laid his. “And then Shamon took over-”

“The year of my birth,” said his cousin.

“Ah, he was old,” agreed Yashamaru. He gazed down at Bunpuku, and then began to unroll a sheet. “It was his time.”

* * *

They held the funeral at the temple, the same blonde priestess who blessed his cousin’s tenure presiding over the farewell ceremony. His cousin was sombre throughout the occasion. Rasa watched him, realising that in fact, his cousin did look much better in navy. He turned back to face the ceremony stubbornly. Green was still the official kazekage robes.

Rasa stared at the profile of his cousin, and at Emrah, as she stood by, and thought of the First, of Reto. Emrah looked young, her skin smooth and unwrinkled. There were no streaks of silver in her glossy hair.

It wasn’t...completely implausible.

“Funerals make me depressed,” grumbled his cousin. “Come, cousin. I want to spar. Let’s see which is strongest. Iron or gold?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Rasa. “You know, showing your abilities off publicly means that your opponents are able to observe you, and will be far more likely to guess your next move in a real battle. And prepare for them. And defeat you.”

“Then how or where else am I meant to train?” asked his cousin. He whistled. “Sasori! You’ll spar with me, won’t you?”

Sasori turned, his dreamy expression widening with delight. “Of course, Lord Third.”

“Be careful there,” hissed Rasa.

“It’s just Sasori!”

“Sasori is obsessed with you!”

“Now there’s the silliest thing I ever heard,” his cousin dismissed. He wrapped an arm around Sasori’s shoulders, lightly ruffling Sasori’s red hair. If anyone else had done it, they would be missing a hand by now, but as it were, Sasori seemed pleased as punch.

“I’ll have my kitchen staff bring us all as lunch,” announced his cousin, when they arrived at the kazekage tower. “You can all sit and watch.”

Emrah and Inas settled in the shade of a tree, perched on a rug. Rasa sighed, and settled beside the women. His cousin and Sasori disappeared to change out of their funeral robes into training robes, emerging with Sasori carrying several scrolls, and his cousin undressed down to his trousers.

Rasa stared at the powerful abdominal muscles of his cousin. A light trail of dark hair ran from his belly button, down to his-

“You must tell me how you taught Lord Third to be so strong,” insisted Inas. “Did you feed him certain foods?”

Sasori licked his thumb, and then pressed it to the scroll. Three puppets emerged, attached by tiny chakra threads to his fingers. Emrah chewed her lip. “Ahhh…well he always visits me once a week for dinner…”

“Was your husband a magnet release user?” asked Inas, as his cousin opened his mouth, spewing out iron sand.

“I...I wouldn’t know. I don’t know one side of a kunai to the other,” admitted Emrah. The iron sand around his cousin formed into geometric shapes, one for each puppet.

“Did he have any special moves? Any weapons? Surely he must have told you.”

The puppets soared across the grounds towards his cousin. His cousin sent each iron sand shape flying towards each puppet, for them to ricquote off each other. His cousin laughed, and Sasori chuckled, launching another attack.

Emrah looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I really don’t know.”

“What battles did he fight in? Did he ever meet any formidable shinobi? My husband and I once fought Hanzō alongside Chiyo, she protected us from the poison.”

“I...I don’t remember. I just married him because I was young and he was handsome.”

“Mother,” warned Rasa, his eyes never leaving his cousin. “Leave off with the questions. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about when she lost her husband.”

“Oh! Do forgive me, I was just curious to see what the next generation of little shinobi and kunoichi might be like.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Emrah.

“I am a wind release user,” announced Inas. “And so is my husband. Although I do use magnet release from time to time. I wish I had half the brains of Rasa, he invents new techniques every other week! And he comes home with his pockets full of gold from the mines-”

“Mother!” Rasa interrupted. “Can you not?”

“I’m just being friendly!” Inas scolded.

“I never knew that my son would have these...abilities,” admitted Emrah.

“I believe he may be Suna’s strongest kazekage yet,” said Inas.

“I only remember him arriving home from the Academy with top grades, and everyone asking what I’d taught him. All I could say was...nothing. He’s my little genius.”

“Can you at least make it a challenge for me?” shouted his cousin.

Sasori glowered, pulling out another scroll. Three more puppets emerged, attached to his fingers. Rasa noticed that he had dainty fingers, with a pronounced point at the tip.

“They say the strength of the puppet master is displayed in how many puppets they can wield,” declared Sasori, the six puppets advancing towards Rasa’s cousin.

Rasa leant across the grass. “Shame you only have ten fingers,” he taunted.

“Don’t say that - else Sasori will find a way to wield puppets with his toes,” laughed his cousin, the iron sand in the air shifting, splitting, forming new shapes.

Sasori paused, as he looked pensive. “That wouldn’t be implausible. I have considered it.”

And with that, Sasori was knocked to the ground with a yelp.

“I win,” announced his cousin gleefully.

“Nonsense!” squealed Sasori. “Cheating!”

“You looked away and put your guard down, I got past your puppets and attacked,” his cousin beamed, sitting on Sasori’s stomach and pinning his hands above his head.

“Let me up!” demanded Sasori, petite limbs flailing.

“I think you quite like it there,” taunted his cousin.

“Let me up!” Sasori struggled.

Rasa summoned his Gold Dust, knocking away his cousin and releasing Sasori.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” he stared firmly, as his cousin brushed off gold dust and stood back upright. “Maybe it’s time you learned some new techniques, Sasori.”

“The Second used puppets,” Sasori scowled as he crawled upright.

“And look what happened to him,” said Rasa.

“The same thing as what happened to the First - their abilities had nothing to do with it!” Sasori brushed away the gold dust. Rasa recalled it back to himself, knowing it would otherwise be a futile waste of a good fighting substance.

“That’ll do,” said his cousin. “I’m famished. Let’s eat.”

* * *

Rasa ought to have known that the sparring with Sasori would not settle his cousin. He had returned home, fending off Inas’ questions about whether he’d met any nice girls in his office today, and gone to bed. Rasa had unchanged into his night robe, and was lying on his side, sleepily molding gold dust into geometric shapes.

Just as he had drifted away and the dust fell to the floor, his mother bent over him. “Rasa? Rasa, wake up, dear. Your cousin needs you.”

Rasa stretched and yawned. “Five more minutes, mama.”

“No, now,” his mother shook him again. “Your cousin is the kazekage and commands your presence.”

Rasa lifted himself off the single mattress and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He waited for his mother to leave, before changing into his trousers and shirt. He wandered downstairs to the hallway, where the Third stood with his arms folded.

“There you are!” he announced.

“Quiet, cousin,” scolded Rasa. “My parents are sleeping. What do you want?”

His cousin bowed low. “Your presence.”

“Here I am,” Rasa scowled.

“Excellent,” his cousin grabbed Rasa by the wrist. Rasa’s heart took a leap, as he was pulled out to the silent streets of Suna. They ran and jumped from building to building, the cool desert night air kissing his face.

“Why aren’t you wearing your robes?” panted Rasa.

“I don’t need them,” his cousin responded.

“What are you plotting?”

“A night of fun and discovery.”

Rasa’s heart hammered. “What...what do you mean by that?”

They ended up back at the Kazekage Tower.

“We are having fun here?” asked Rasa. Two of the guards he paid to guard his cousin had fallen asleep at their station. Rasa took note of their names and resolved to fire them the next morning.

“Not quite,” said his cousin, leading the way inside. They walked into the kazekage office, and Rasa remembered the last time he had been here, when he interrupted the sealing. His cousin reached for the teapot on the shelf, and tucked it under one arm.

By now, Rasa began to suspect that his cousin had some darker, more sinister purpose in mind.

“Why do you need me?” he asked lowly.

“You’ll see,” said his cousin. “Now, to the catacombs!”

Rasa had no choice but to take off after his cousin. They leapt building to building, his cousin’s topknot sailing behind him, loosening from the activity. Rasa had never seen him with his hair down, and wondered if his hair would be fluffy to touch. Like the iron sand that he worked with.

Down in the catacombs, his cousin twisted and turned down corridors. Rasa coughed at unsettled dust. Usually, he would have liked exploring, seeking out more gold, more gems, more treasures. But tonight, he watched his cousin.

They emerged into a large hall, that looked more like an arena. One that would have been used to train shinobi. It reminded Rasa of the Academy when he was a boy, desperately hoping to make Inas and Anwai proud.

“Ah, this will do,” his cousin announced.

“Where are we?”

“The catacombs, silly,” said his cousin. “Suna didn’t magically pop up one night, you know.”

“I do know that.”

His cousin pulled out the teapot, and Rasa frowned. “Cousin,” he said firmly. “What are your intentions?”

“I am bored, Rasa,” announced his cousin.

“You’re the kazekage.”

“I’m the kazekage, and I am bored,” said his cousin. “I want a fight. A real fight.”

“I want to go to bed,” glowered Rasa.

“And I want knowledge,” said his cousin. “Bunpuku was a good man, but he was an old priest, he had no use of fighting styles. But I am a kazekage, and I want to learn more.”

“What are your intentions?” demanded Rasa.

“I’m going to unleash Shukaku and fight it.”

The teapot rattled delightedly.

“No,” said Rasa firmly.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It will destroy Suna.”

“You wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I refuse to take chances.”

“But what if it could help us?” asked his cousin. “Is gold heavier than sand? What if we could train it? What if we could use it as our ultimate weapon?”

“You need a jinchuriki for that!” shouted Rasa.

“Maybe one day,” his cousin mused. He picked up the teapot. “When there is someone suitable. But for now…”

Rasa could only watch as his cousin tossed the teapot in the air. There was a ferocious roar which sent echoes pounding through the catacombs. Rasa practically winced, as dust and old brick shifted. The teapot’s lid lifted, as his cousin got into a fighting stance, and one sandy arm reached out.

“Look out!” Rasa yelled.

His cousin laughed, as a head emerged from the pot next.

“This is not a joke!” Rasa yelled again.

Iron sand spilled out of his cousin’s mouth, forming into a protective circle of bullets around his body. Another arm emerged from the teapot, this time it reached across and swiped at his cousin. Rasa yelped as his cousin leapt into the air, narrowly missing the hit. The bullets travelled with him, before his cousin flung them at Shukaku.

“Stop this!” Rasa cried.

“I’m just getting started!” his cousin protested. “You haven’t even seen it use it’s sand yet!”

“I don’t bloody want to!” Rasa shouted. “I just wanted some sleep!”

Shukaku roared again, this time blasting wind in his cousin’s face. His cousin’s topknot released, the band snapping with the force. His hair stood on end, but his cousin blocked the main force of the wind by creating a shield of his iron sand.

“You’ll have to do it harder, beast,” his cousin taunted. “Show me that sand of yours. I have all night.”

Rasa watched as his cousin launched attack after attack upon the beast. The beast itself did not let up, and Rasa thought things would never end. His cousin seemed in his element, golden eyes bright with glee.

As the night drew on, and faint orange light filtered through the catacombs, Rasa thought he could see a distinct slump in his cousin’s shoulders. Any other man would not have noticed, but Rasa did. His cousin caught his eye, and Rasa wondered, just for a brief second, if his slump was deliberate, for the purpose of baiting Rasa.

Shukaku lunged, streaky arms of sand advancing towards his cousin, but this time, he was not fast enough. Maybe this too was deliberate, but Rasa decided he would take no chances. Thinking fast, he called his Gold Dust, aiming it straight for the beast’s sand. The gold dust collided with the sand, pushing it down, away from his cousin. His cousin panted, clutching at his chest. Rasa called more Gold Dust, pouring it down onto the beast, pushing it back into the teapot, suppressing the furious rage of the tanuki, until the lid popped back on.

“Just as I thought,” his cousin nodded, his loose dark hair spilling over his shoulders. “Gold is heavier than sand. And my little cousin can subdue a tailed beast.”

“Thank heavens it wasn’t completely released!” Rasa berated. He looked at the way his cousin clutched at his chest. “You are injured!”

“Just a scratch,” his cousin shook his head.

Rasa picked up the teapot, and then wrapped an arm under his cousin’s shoulder blades. “Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Rasa half-carried his cousin through the streets of waking Suna, his steps swift and precise. The guards who he had caught slumbering were still slumbering, and Rasa slipped past them, carrying his cousin to his room. He left the teapot on the coffee table, and helped his cousin to lie back on his bed. His cousin sank against the plush mattress gratefully, gazing up at Rasa with glassy gold eyes.

Rasa glanced away, and began to peel away the layers of soiled clothing.

He stopped when he reached his undershirt.

Blood soaked through the loose cotton, and with the walk, and Rasa’s interference, looked fresh with no signs of stopping.

Rasa flung the door to his cousin’s room back open. “Yashamaru!” he roared down the stairs, through the tower.

Attendants snapped into place, calling and collecting the ANBU captain. The younger blond man was with him within moments. He didn’t ask questions, simply peeled away the clothing, and pressed a folded compress to stop the bleeding.

“This is why I like Yashamaru,” his cousin shifted himself upright. “He’s a good boy. Does as he’s told. Doesn’t ask too many questions.”

“I grew up with an older sister. I’m used to doing as I’m told,” explained Yashamaru. “But I do need to know...how did you sustain these injuries, Lord Third?”

His cousin smiled. “Protecting Suna, my dear lad.”

“It’s a flesh wound, thankfully. I can heal it, but this will scar,” warned Yashamaru, lifting the compress to glance at the wound. “If you don’t want a scar, I suggest calling someone very experienced. Like Lady Chiyo.”

“Oh, leave Sasori’s granny to her retirement,” shrugged his cousin. “I’d like a scar. It will make me look sexy.”

Rasa facepalmed. He paced around the room, as Yashamaru concentrated. Green chakra glowed from Yashamaru’s hands, as he focused.

“I’m telling your mother,” Rasa threatened gleefully, coming to standstill at the foot of the bed, putting his hands on his hip.

“Please do. I’d like some of her sweets,” admitted his cousin. “But don’t frighten her, whatever you do.”

* * *

Rasa escorted Emrah through the council room, towards the private quarters. He had told Emrah a very sanitised version of the truth, that his cousin had been ‘training’ and sustained an ‘injury’ and that he wanted some of his favourite sweets.

They walked past the stone statues, that Rasa had paid for, not so long ago.

Rasa glanced up, at the First, at Reto.

“Do you remember Lord First?” asked Rasa.

“Yes, I do,” said Emrah. “He was the kazekage when I was a very young woman.”

“Did you ever meet him?” asked Rasa.

“I did,” admitted Emrah. “I was married young. My husband was a shinobi. We were some of the first families to be brought under his rule. He sent my husband away on many missions, until I was widowed.”

“Apparently he was very business-minded,” said Rasa. “Your son says I would give him a run for his money.”

Emrah laughed softly, gently patting Rasa’s arm. “He speaks highly of you. When he formed his council, yours was the first name he put down. He trusts you.”

Rasa didn’t know why his heart danced and soared in his chest. He didn’t know why, when he looked at Emrah, and at the statue of the First, and then the statue of his cousin, the Third, he somehow seemed to see the complete picture.

He led her up the stairs, where his cousin sat bandaged, eyes glassy with pain.

“What did you do?” asked Emrah, immediately perching at his side, taking one of his large hands in hers.

“I fought a tailed beast.”

“Melih!”

“Don’t call me that!” his cousin scolded.

“You’re my son, and I’ll call you by the name I gave you.”

Melih. That was his cousin’s name? Melih. It suited him. Rasa rolled it on the tip of his tongue inside of his mouth. Melih. Melih. It seemed less threatening and distant than Lord Third. Melih.

“I’m the kazekage now,” argued his cousin.

“I thought the tailed beast had been sealed,” scolded Emrah, pushing sweaty hair from his forehead. “What were you doing?”

“Training,” his cousin sulked.

“And I’ve had to waste money on a new teapot,” Emrah shook her head. “I hope you won’t be stealing that too.”

“Rasa put it back,” his cousin shrugged.

They turned to stare at the teapot on the coffee table.

“I have half a mind to throw it in the fire,” Emrah shook her head. “If your father were here-”

“He is not,” his cousin folded his arms. “I did not know the man.”

* * *

Rasa wondered if he ought to say something. Every time he saw his cousin, his heartbeat faster and his head pounded, and he wondered if it were worth it, or if it would destroy everything.

But Rasa had always been sincere. He spoke his truth.

His cousin’s wound healed, leaving the scar that Yashamaru promised. It was the shape of an exploding star. Rasa caught him showing it off to Sasori before a council meeting. He shook his head in disapproval, even as Sasori’s fine fingers traced the pattern.

Rasa approached his desk one evening, his tongue heavy with the secret he was about to reveal.

“Rasa,” greeted his cousin.

“Lord Third,” said Rasa. He wanted to say Melih, but his cousin had not invited him to use it. It felt improper. It felt rude.

“What do I owe the pleasure? How are the fortifications coming along?”

“Very well. You will be pleased,” said Rasa.

“Good,” his cousin put down his pen, and smiled up with golden eyes from his desk. “Then what is it?”

“I…” Rasa swallowed.

He could not.

He could.

He could not.

He had to.

His cousin deserved honesty.

“I think…”

His cousin climbed up, and gently laid a hand on Rasa’s back. Warmth spread from the palm of his hand, through Rasa’s shoulders, throughout his body, and elsewhere. “What do you think, Rasa?”

“I think that there have been mistruths,” Rasa chewed his words. “Mistruths used to...protect each other from hurt. But mistruths all the same.”

“Explain.”

“I think your father was the First.”

His cousin was silent.

“You were born the year that Lord Second began his tenure,” explained Rasa. “You’re powerful. Unexplainably powerful. Your mother gave birth to you alone when she was young. You’re tall, she’s tiny. You’re almost as tall as Lord First was said to be. You look like him, too. I almost didn’t pay the sculptor for copying Lord First’s statue, and then I realised-”

His cousin held up a hand. A gold ring set with an ironite stone sat on his middle finger, another ring with the kazekage signet on the index. A gold bangle jangled up and down his wrist.

Rasa fell silent, worrying he had spoken out of turn.

“I know.”

“You know?” asked Rasa.

“I guessed as much,” said his cousin. “But not a word to mama. Not a word to anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because it will hurt her feelings,” his cousin glowered. “Mama spent all these years protecting me. Suffering. Hurting. So I could be safe. Using her mind, body and soul as an income to keep a roof over our head. I will _not_ tout her mistreatment in front of all of Suna. I will not throw all she did away for the glory of simply being known as another kazekage’s son. To have all of Suna know her as Lord First’s... _ plaything _ . I am Lord Third in my own name and right.”

“But it could establish and settle your dynasty...”

“I don’t care for that,” his cousin dismissed. He drew himself to his full height, a stern look worn across his features. “You may leave me.”

“But cousin-”

“Not a word,” said his cousin firmly. “Not to Baki, not to Yashamaru, not to Sasori, or your parents, definitely not your mother, and _never_ mine. This conversation never leaves this office. Do you understand?”

“Yes, cousin,” breathed Rasa. He turned on his heel, chewing at his lip, until the door shut behind him, almost catching the heel of his sandals. Rasa turned, and stared at the mahogany. He had not said all that he wanted to say.

But his cousin would never hear it now.

Well.

There were things to do in his office.

Rasa couldn’t dwell on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Awww, poor Rasa! It must be hard having a crush on someone with such a big personality.
> 
> Do you think he'll find happiness?
> 
> If you would also LOVE to talk Suna lore&hcs, then I am your girl! Please pop a comment down and let's chat!


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